


In the Locker Room

by moon_hotel



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games)
Genre: Intimidation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: Macho's not top dog in the WVBA anymore, not after everyone's been reshuffled during the events of Super Punch-Out!!. It makes him even more insufferable to be around, but Mr. Sandman is able to put him in his place.





	In the Locker Room

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2014, but I haven't posted it until now. Enjoy!

"Not so tough now that you're not the boss anymore, huh?" Sandman snorted. 

"Like you got room to talk," Macho snapped, shooting a dirty look at him over his shoulder. "How's life in the Major Circuit working out for you, champ?"

Sandman rolled his eyes. Ever since the WVBA had rearranged everyone and added a Special Circuit, nobody was happy. Sandman had been forced to drop down to the Major Circuit, but he sucked it up. But for Macho, not being on top was agonizing, and it made him even more unbearable to be around. 

But no matter how awful his personality got, Sandman had to admit he had the looks. He'd gone back to tanning, so his skin was a deep brown that made his grey ("Silver, it's SILVER") hair stand out even more. But it was that body of his, all those muscles combined with his thin, curvy waist and his long legs, that caught Sandman's eye. And he still walked around in nothing but a Speedo.

Macho turned back towards the full-length mirror on the wall, looking over himself, preening and flexing. "Who you showin' off for?" Sandman asked. "Nobody here but me."

"Myself," Macho retorted. "Not my fault you can't appreciate a bod like mine."

Sandman chuckled. "Oh, I can appreciate it," he said nonchalantly. "Your shitty attitude, though, that's a dealbreaker."

"Huh?" Macho gave him the blankest look. "What do you...huh?"

"I said," Sandman intoned, stepping towards him and leaning in, "it don't make up for your bad attitude. Change that," he said, jabbing Macho in his sizable chest, "and I'll give you another look."

This time it sunk in, and Macho turned bright red in record time. "G-go to hell!" he exclaimed, backing up. "Fuck off, man, I'm not into that!"

"Yeah?" Sandman pressed. He knew this was twisting the knife, but fuck it, Macho spent all his time talking shit on everyone else anyway. "You walk around practically in the buff for all these guys to drool at and you're tryin' to tell me you're not into that?"

"That's not--" Macho choked out, and Sandman got ready to duck one of his swings, but instead he just turned back to the mirror. "Ugh, just...get outta here, Sandman, I don't have time to waste on you."

"Just on yourself, right?" Sandman laughed, stepping up behind him. Macho rolled his eyes, but as Sandman started to whisper, he began to tense up. "You look good," he said, watching Macho's reflection. "Hell of a shame to waste it in the mirror."

"I'm not..." Macho repeated, but damn, the man had no poker face at all. His voice wavered and he glanced away, shifting from foot to foot nervously. In any case, that tiny swimsuit didn't leave anything to the imagination. "I told you, dude, I'm not--"

"I know," Sandman chuckled. "I'm just givin' you a compliment, that's all." He settled his huge hands on Macho's tense shoulders, kneading them a little. "Lord knows you can't get enough a' those, huh?"

Macho opened and closed his mouth a couple times, like he was on the verge of saying something, but he didn't. But his eyes met Sandman's for a moment in the mirror, and the look he had was a little confused. A little expectant. 

"You've been bulkin' up," Sandman noted, moving his hands down to Macho's biceps. "I've noticed. 

"Yeah...?" Macho breathed, his eyes drifting closed. "Impressive, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Not as impressive as this, though!" Sandman reached down and gave Macho's ass a squeeze, and damn if he didn't jump a foot in the air. "Hah!"

"F-fuck off!" Macho yelped. "You dirty son of a--"

"Hey, who's the dirty one?" Sandman said, glancing to the mirror. Macho's eyes darted away. "You're practically drippin' all over the floor."

"I-I--no I'm not--"

"Yeah, you are," Sandman said slowly. Macho's cock was curving up out of his swimsuit, the tip peeking out above it and so wet with precome that it was starting to drip down towards his thighs. "Fuck, man," he groaned, pressing up against Macho's back, his stiff cock rubbing up against his ass. "You're fucking ready."

"A-ah, fuck...listen, don't--don't take this the wrong way," Macho said quickly, his eyes snapping back to Sandman's. "It doesn't mean any--"

"Save it," Sandman laughed, hooking his thumbs inside that swimsuit and tugging it down. "Doesn't have to mean shit. Look at you," he breathed, running his hands over Macho's round ass. In the mirror Sandman could see him biting his lip as he pressed back against his hands. "Fucking beautiful." 

"Y-yeah?" Macho whispered, his voice shaky and uneven. He pressed back against Sandman's body but his eyes moved restlessly back and forth, like he couldn't decide what to do or if it was too late to change his mind. "You, uh…you like it, huh?" 

"Mm-hmm." Sandman buried his face in the crook of Macho's neck, kissing him. He had the metallic smell of sweat on him, mixed with the smell of the ocean. "I wanna fuck you," he whispered, and a long shudder worked its way through Macho's body. "Right here."

"I-I, dude, we can't," Macho protested, and Sandman could feel his pulse quicken underneath his lips. "What if someone sees?"

"They're not gonna see. No one's here but us." He let out a low laugh. "Hell, I could plow you right in the ring and nobody'd know."

Macho let out a moan at that, a full-fledged moan from way down in his throat, and his cock was so stiff it was pressing up against his stomach. "F-fuck, you wouldn't."

"I would, but I don't got the patience," Sandman admitted, running a hand around to stroke Macho's cock lightly through his speedo. The man practically yowled, arching his back and rubbing against his hand like a cat. "C'mon, man. Tell me what you want."

"I…" Macho started. Sandman watched his gaze move to the mirror, to his reflection, and then he turned his head away. "Listen, uh, I got some stuff in my bag we can use…"

He wasn't kidding. He had lube with him and a whole string of condoms, too. "Not that I ever used 'em for this," Macho insisted, as Sandman pressed up against his ass. "I never--a-ah--ahhh-- _Sandman_..."

Sandman let out a low groan as he pressed up into him, slowly, his hands on Macho's hips. "Fuck, you're tight," he breathed. "You--you okay?"

"You're so fucking big, I…go easy on me, Sandman, please…"

"I will, man, I will…"

Macho reached out to brace himself against the wall, his hands on either side of the mirror. "Y-you're so fucking big," he repeated, the words coming out in a moan. His cock twitched, dripping a thick bead of precome onto the tile floor. "Fuck, fuck…"

Sandman pulled out of him, just a bit, and eased back in a little deeper. "That's right," he groaned. "You think you can take it?"

"Fuck yeah," Macho gasped, and he tightened up around Sandman so hard it almost left him breathless. "Gi…gimme. Give it to me," he panted, his breath hitching as Sandman pushed into him deeper. "Oh god, oh fuck," he whispered fervently, his knees starting to shake. "More, fuck, gimme more. Please don't stop."

He kept talking as Sandman fucked him, just a constant string of moans and pleas punctuated by gasps. It was like he was a totally different person now, all his arrogance sinking away. "Fuck, you're hungry," Sandman groaned, driving into him with a hard thrust, watching Macho's back arch and tense underneath him. "I knew you couldn't hide it, not when you're fuckin' hard as a rock in that suit..."

"Yeah," Macho moaned, pressing back against him, his boots squeaking against the tile as he shifted from foot to foot. "Fuck, I want it so bad, so fucking bad, all the time…please," he begged, "please gimme your cock, every inch, make me take it, Sandman, please!"

Sandman shifted a little bit and put a hand under one of Macho's thighs, pulling it up so he could drive in deeper, deeper, again and again. Macho wasn't even trying to keep quiet now, crying out and begging with each thrust of Sandman's cock. "Fuck, that's it!" he exclaimed. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Sandman, I'm gonna come!"

"Nngh…c'mon," Sandman groaned in a deep, gravelly voice, and even just saying that took all his concentration. "Do it…come on..."

Macho arched his back and let out a long cry as his cock jerked, shooting over and over onto the mirror and onto the tiled floor. "Yeah, _yeah_ ," he moaned, his voice pulsing with a need that was almost painful to hear. "Please, please, _pleeease_ …"

Sandman's hands tightened up on his legs and he let out a long, low groan. Fuck, he'd needed this too, he really had. All those times spent sneaking peeks at Macho's muscles, his chest, that tight ass, wanting him even when he couldn't stand him…

He came hard, pressing deep into Macho's body as he shot off again and again. His legs tensed up, his toes curling in his boots, and suddenly he felt them relax and weaken, sending both of them sinking to the floor. "Fuck," he panted, wrapping his arms around Macho's waist. "Fuck, fuck!"

Sandman leaned over him, fucking him again, again, driving into him over and over as Macho moaned weakly underneath him. "Fuck, don't stop," he begged weakly. "Don't stop, never stop…"

He had to, eventually, his movements growing longer and slower and more labored until he was panting on top of Macho like he'd just run a marathon. They stayed like that for a moment or two, trying to catch their breath. "Fuck," Sandman gasped, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself as he pulled out. "Fuck, man, that was good."

"Y-yeah," Macho agreed. He was still leaning forward with his ass in the air, and he practically had stars circling his head. "Unbelievable..."

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I…I think."

"C'mon. Let's clean up."

Sandman helped him to his feet, though he was pretty wobbly himself. They grabbed some towels and started mopping up their mess off the wall, off the mirror, off the floor. "Hey," Macho suddenly said. "Um…do you wanna take a shower?"

Sandman paused, then shrugged. "Sure."

He wasn't sure what to expect, whether Macho was gonna give him the silent treatment or laugh it all off or what. But when the hot water hit their shoulders, all he could feel was Macho's arms wrapped around his neck, Macho's lips on his own. 

"Hey, uh…" he whispered, pulling back for a moment. "You're not gonna tell anyone about this, right?"

"Hell no," Sandman chuckled. "I got a lot to lose too, you know."

Macho grinned at that, then leaned in again, running his hands down Sandman's solid arms. "Good. Then we'll just keep this our secret, huh, just between you and me?" 

"Hah. I think we'll be keepin' a lot more secrets than that."


End file.
